


Rumpelstiltskin

by Carche



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Angst, Astronomy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extended Metaphors, Flawed characters, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Language of Flowers, M/M, Melancholic Ending, Mental Instability, Miscommunication, Mommy Issues, No beta we die like real heathens, Panic Attacks, Planets, Suicide Attempt, Symbolism, Unreliable Narrator, angst with purpose, idk if this would be considered a happy ending, is romanticizing your internalized homophobia and mommy issues a valid coping mechanism, old literary methods in modern literature
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29766681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carche/pseuds/Carche
Summary: What was his name, what was his name? That goblin could be killed with his name, what was it?“Rumpelstiltskin, Rumpelstiltskin, come out!” Akaashi cried into the empty living room.But as all fantastical tales were, they were nothing but figments for the hopeless and dreamers.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji & Kuroo Tetsurou & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Akaashi Keiji & Oikawa Tooru, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Iwaizumi Hajime
Comments: 10
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, this fic might end up being too heavy for some people (I wouldn't know bc I scrounge around the angst w/o happy ending tag for shits and giggles) so please do keep that in mind

_Are you keeping your grades steady?_

Akaashi sighed, the blinding screen lulled its light a few seconds after delivering the notification. This was the second text his mother sent him, practically a copy and paste of the one she sent earlier that month. A text asking of the wellbeing of his academic numbers, and not the wellbeing of his person. Almost as if they were prescheduled, there was no true concern behind the empty words.

It was his last year in college, the last stretch now clearing the horizon. His only problem was, he knew he didn’t have enough fuel to make it there. But it wasn’t like he could stop. He couldn’t afford to stop. A foot pushing the gas pedal he knew didn’t belong to him, held steady with only an optimistic reliance on the alarming speed of the guzzling gas canister. Digits sheening on the dashboard, time that did not belong to him.

But how could he ever hate her? Afterall, his mother had taken effort to build his future for him.

Akaashi once heard about the infinite universe theory, where the choices he didn’t make happened in an alternate universe. Akaashi hoped the ‘him’ in another world were more content, because as far as he could tell, there was no use in trying to venture down a different road when he was well into his 20’s.

Akaashi ruffled his hair in frustration, then let his arms melt over the side of the railing, the soothing touch of cold metal bit his inner arm. It was a few hours after the sun’s daily departure, and he had decided to spend the lingering dusk hours at a bridge a few blocks from his apartment.

The crisp winds caressed his face, the only affection Akaashi had received in a while.

He let his forearms slide off the railing and the bar raced up till it hit his chest. His phone was still in his hand, dangling above the busy streams of cars beneath him.

Akaashi let his eyes fall from his phone, choosing a new car to follow every fifteen seconds. Sometimes he felt like he was playing a huge version of the sport some called fishing. His dangling arms as his trusty fishing pole, he'd snatch up hundreds of glowing fish below him. And whenever he was in that mental game, an intrusive thought would pop up every so often.

What if a 'fish' was too big for him and pulled him under?

Surely no one would notice. Among the vast population, he'd only become a singular statistic hanging in a psychiatrist office.

A rush of adrenaline crashed in waves over Akaashi's head.

While Akaashi was swinging his arms over the edge, mimicking a motion of catching cars in his hands, he heard the metronome of a bike chain chime directly behind him. With one last clack, it stopped.

He waited a few seconds to test if it was just some stupid cyclist whose lungs were out of wind. Akaashi clacked his fingernails against the hollow metal, internally counting to ten. Akaashi could still feel their presence behind his back.

"Can I help you?" Akaashi turned with obvious annoyance. Almost instantaneously, he took back his attitude.

Gold eyes stared right back at him.

Oh god.

How electrifying, those eyes that bore into his.

"Um, you weren't thinking of jumping, where you? Sorry I just," the man waved his hand frantically in front of himself as if that would dispel his embarrassment.

Akaashi studied him in the pooling gold of the streetlight; he was wearing a thick navy-blue sweatshirt paired with olive pants and his terribly turbulent hair was sticking up in all directions. And somehow, it worked for him. It didn't look greasy, and even more surprisingly had a charm to it. A beautiful stranger.

Had he been a girl, Akaashi would've introduced him to his parents without a second thought.

"Hello?"

For a second, Akaashi peeked down at the traffic whizzing below his fingertips. The 'bait' bobbed below the filmy surface, ready to pull Akaashi down with it. The beady eyes of headlights glistened back at him. 

"I wasn't going to," he spoke softly. He was thinking about it for a second, but what was the point. What then? The idea of after-death scared him more than the uncertainty of the future.

"Oh," Akaashi saw scarlet creep up from his neck to his face. He scratched the back of his head. "I just thought," he waved his hands frantically. Akaashi stifled a laugh.

"No but thank you."

"I'm Bokuto Koutarou, by the way."

"Akaashi Keiji."

Akaashi leaned back on the railing, his back now facing the highway. His hands clutched the bar and his elbows bent into a slack. A peaceful silence glazed over them, only the crunching of tires on asphalt thundered in his eardrums.

Akaashi focused his attention on Bokuto's bike. Or rather, the metal basket strapped to the front. Contrasting with the dull silver, a vivid red shone brightly.

Blood red flowers.

Wire-like antennae sprouted around the head of the flowers in a formation like umbrella ribs. Long wisps of petals fashioned themselves together, forming the actual flower. Several stalks of flowers protruded and snaked through the perforations of the basket, malleable stalks curled around and between the metal squares.

"What are those?" Akaashi pointed at the flowers.

"Flowers?"

"No duh, but like what kind are they?"

"Ohhh, they’re called Red Spider Lilies."

Yes, perhaps they did look like spider legs, but Akaashi would've considered Red Umbrella Lilies to be higher on the 'potential name list'. Or Red Streamer String Lilies. Red Spider Lilies made him think that they would somehow magically come alive and crawl up and over his body. He shuddered at that thought.

"Most people think of them as a bad omen, since they are symbolic for death and all. But that's kind of ignoring the other aspect of it," Bokuto caressed one of the flowers gently. "They also symbolize reincarnation."

Akaashi studied Bokuto's face; it was relaxed and he warmly admired the flowers, despite some of them being in a sorry state.

"A lovely lady ordered them for a funeral. At first I was like, woah that's a bit gloomy, but she kinda explained herself with the other meaning. And then I decided to research the specific flowers, and then ended up falling down a rabbit hole on the flower language site," Bokuto babbled while rubbing his nape with his palm, steadily growing into the same shade as the flowers.

Akaashi reached over to touch the tip of one of the lilies.

How strangely beautiful.

A rude blare of a horn interrupted Akaashi’s thoughts, prompting him to turn his head ever so slightly. A car was barreling to the peak of the bridge where they stood, one that was going at an alarmingly dangerous speed, not to mention the lack of distance between the pedestrian walkway and the street.

Instinctually, Akaashi grabbed the handle of the bike with one hand and Bokuto’s arm with the other. The ill-thought-out plan caused for Akaashi’s lower back to hit the metal railing; a shallow pang whispered in the air as he used his body weight to pull both Bokuto and his bike out of the way.

The car whizzed past, trampling a few petals that fluttered out of the basket.

“Are you ok?” Akaashi asked, keeping his arm hidden behind him as casually as he could. He bit his lip to keep his hisses under control as his palm rubbed the spot where he hit metal.

“I should ask you that, but I’m fine. Though, the flowers aren’t in that great of shape. Do you think she would mind?” The rhetorical question hovered in the air for a split second, then fell flat. Obviously, nobody would pay for a bouquet of flowers, only to be delivered a grouping of stalks whose ends were completely snapped, save for a measly ten flower heads who weren’t in the greatest shape themselves.

“I thought so,” Bokuto sighed, his burly hand slapping around the bar of the railing as he glanced down at the card below.

Whether or not it was a conscious move, he pressed closer to Akaashi’s body to let a new influx of pedestrians to pass by.

“I guess I have to head back to the shop to whip up a new bouquet. I hope she doesn’t mind if I’m late. What time is it,” People squeezed pass even more, bodies close enough to Akaashi where he could smell tobacco boxes on some and fresh lavender detergent on others.

Akaashi watched Bokuto’s mouth form words that didn’t reach his ears. The stream of people busy in their own lives curtly shared a snippet of it to Akaashi; conversations across phones and the unwarranted smell of alcohol shoved down his throat by exhales dulled his ability to listen to Bokuto.

“I can’t here you,” Akaashi tapped his ear for good measure, just in case Bokuto couldn’t hear him as well. A few expressions flipped across his face, starting with brief confusion. An ‘o’ framed his mouth, and Bokuto leaned in, closing in any little distance they had.

“I said, could you check my watch?” Bokuto gestured to the hand that was lying limp in Akaashi’s grasp, “I can’t move because of the people moving.” If it were a person other than Bokuto, Akaashi would have taken his words as pretentious and demanding. However, Bokuto’s tone was completely and utterly void of intensity and underlying command, and if Akaashi was being completely honest, Bokuto talking in Akaashi’s ear made him awfully bothered.

But that made him all the more embarrassed, because the last thing Bokuto was doing was flirting, flirting with another man no less.

His movement a little too jerky, Akaashi rotated Bokuto’s wrist to turn the face of the small clock to properly read the needles inside. It took Akaashi a long second to read it, save for the time taken to suppress his own wandering imagination.

“10:38,” Akaashi shifted his weight back to regain some of his personal space.

There was just so, so many people.

So, so many eyes.

“Oh perfect! I still have some time,” there was nothing Akaashi could add to the conversation, so he simply nodded to tell Bokuto that he was still listening.

The weight of the bike lessened against Akaashi’s leg, and in the moment, he realized how restricting their position was. The previously stagnant tire lazily rolled a bit until the back one hit the rubber of Akaashi’s shoe. Akaashi looked up to see what made it move.

A short man’s jacket zipper was caught on the basket of Bokuto’s bike. Akaashi and Bokuto observed the man as an acidic frustration splashed his face. He swiped at the flap of his jacket and its first ten teeth stubbornly held onto the welding of the basket. After a few exponentially forceful yankings, the jacket finally called quits and let go. It the fabric’s tension shriveled and fluttered at its own pacing to his displeasure. He shot a quick glare at Akaashi and Bokuto as if this was all their fault.

The man’s short-fused emotions fizzled out just short of their feet. Akaashi withheld a snort. It was ridiculous how this man took such an offense to something that they had no control over. Akaashi let him disappear out of the corner of his peripherals as he turned back to Bokuto.

The man now short of range, Akaashi vocalized his thoughts. “Well, surely that man had something very important to attend.”

“Very,” Bokuto chimed in.

There they stood, cloaked in the light of the streetlamps and in the shadows of rebounded silence.

Akaashi found it very common for his conversations to solemnly fall flat. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, he just found it hard to voice the right words. Conversation required choices to be made, and frankly, Akaashi preferred for his answers to always be correct, never stepping boundaries that make things more troublesome. He hated going into detail of his own problems, though there were often times many slip ups from him.

Sometimes lessons that time and time again presented itself to him, would never become lessons learned.

“Do you ever feel like you’re running out of time?”

Akaashi tilted his head to meet Bokuto’s. How peculiar was his question.

“What do you mean?” Akaashi figured Bokuto wanted to expand on his own question rather than hear his own input.

“Like, the things you want to do. You just have so many, but not enough time to fulfil them all.”

Akaashi hummed, through heavily lipped eyes, he gazed once again at the glutinous flow of traffic down below.

“It’s more like I have too much time, if I’m being honest.”

“Hm, why don’t you share some of that time with me then?”

Something within Akaashi’s spine jittered. He knew the price of his greed would amount to no good if kept unchecked.

One lesson Akaashi tried his hardest to remember. Straight men unknowingly leading on gay men were the worst, and had to be avoided at all costs.

He flitted his eyes around. It was now a few minutes past the mass train stop when all the office workers came off of the train, so there was less crowding and more room for comfort. Not ideal, but acceptable, the sea of beiges, maroons, and greys were stirring in a dying tornado fashion around him. He took in a deep breath and his mush mind attempted to procure a new topic.

Something yanked at his collar. What were they forgetting?

Something, they were definitely forgetting something. It was annoying, like the last bit of shedding that stuck to the skin. Something was amiss. Akaashi glanced at Bokuto’s bike, and then it occurred to him.

Oh. The flowers.

This man asked for Akaashi’s time didn’t have enough of his own. Time was of the essence if he wanted to get the flowers to a customer in a timely manner.

“Your delivery,” Akaashi nudged Bokuto in the arm. Somewhere along the line, he ended up letting go of Bokuto’s hand. “I think the lady is waiting for them.”

"I'm supposed to be delivering them to- OH MY GOD I'M SUPPOSED TO BE DELIVERING THEM," both of Bokuto's hands clasped on to his mouth in a panicked realization. Not a beat skip later, Bokuto grabs his bike by the cuff underneath the seat and pulled it toward him.

“I doubt you can properly ride here,” Akaashi said dumbly. Of course Bokuto couldn’t pedal down the slope of the bridge.

“You’re right, this is gonna take longer than I expected,” Bokuto ruffled the flowers in the front basket. They were entirely escaped from their string bonds and some even started to slip between the metal casing.

“I was going to ask you for your number right now, and all that jazz, but it seems like I can’t afford to be relaxed about time.” Disappointment sank between Akaashi’s lungs. Lacking in conviction, he tried to fight it out.

“Ah, but I suppose this could work,” Bokuto pulled a small card from the red lilies’ grasp and placed it in Akaashi’s outstretched fingers. “It’s a business card for my shop,” his sentence unfinished, but the implications properly communicated.

Again, Akaashi could offer up a wordless response. “Mm.” He rubbed his fingers over the glossy finish of the card, the smudges a snail’s trail across the surface. A simple yet elegant ‘Juno’ written in the middle, which Akaashi presumed was the name of the flower shop. Underneath, Bokuto’s name as well as someone else listed, a name he didn’t seem to recognize.

"I am so sorry, I have to go, but if fate would have it, we will meet again," a goofy, lopsided grin was plastered on his face. "See you later!"

_See you later._

Akaashi couldn't help himself. The five-minute interaction he had with a complete stranger kept playing and rewinding in his mind for the past few days. Over and over, Bokuto's face etched itself in the front of his mind. His ear heated up like the surface of a summer sandscape. Akaashi frowned hard.

"If your eyebrows were to furrow even a centimeter more, I would've thought it was a caterpillar on your forehead," a water bottle tapped the side of his cheek, the condensed droplets boldly transferred onto his face. The sudden contact pulled Akaashi out of his repeating thoughts. He blinked twice and looked up at the grinning man he considered a friend. The bed hair more apparent than usual, Kuroo looked more like a deranged meerkat.

He and Kuroo had known each other for quite a while. They originally bumped into each other in high school in a financing class, and for sure weren’t immediately hitched off as best friends. That took some effort. But it was a first for Akaashi, someone who wasn't interrogated and evaluated by his parents if they were good enough to be his friend. Someone worthy of influence over Akaashi.

"What's got you in a loop?" Akaashi wished he could answer that it was just schoolwork, but that was simply not the case. 

"Mmm, I don't know," the lie ran jaggedly through his teeth. He was curled up in the corner of the couch that laid in the kitchen and living combo room with only a thin blanket to cover his body. He had woken up early —possibly around four, but his contacts weren't in and the microwave's neon green timer wasn't exactly the easiest color to read with his astigmatism— and decided to sit in the open foyer, a place significantly colder than his own bedroom. It was a bit too warm to Akaashi's liking at the time.

"I don't know, my ass," Kuroo cracked open the water bottle, crumpling the plastic as the water guzzled down the mouth of the bottle and into his throat. "Is it that stranger you met on that bridge a few nights ago?" 

God, Akaashi horribly regret blabbering about him to Kuroo that same night, very obviously high on the midnight delirium. Had it not been for Akaashi clearly out of his right mind, he would have definitely locked up any mention of their interaction within the far depths of his mind. Although, Akaashi was glad it was Kuroo he chattered endlessly to rather than their (very recently) former roommate, Terushima, Akaashi would have probably folded himself in half the next day and shipped himself first-class to hell. 

Akaashi answered with a simple "yes."

Kuroo hummed. “Well, it’s not like it’s a one-time thing. Didn’t he give you his business card?” the said card was attentively placed on Akaashi’s desk back in his room, propped up in a fashion that the glossy surface didn’t catch the light of his lamp. For someone who wanted to forget it even happened, lest his mind suddenly plan out their entire life together, he sure took great care of that little card.

“Yeah,” Akaashi muttered, curling his toes in as far as they could go. “But that isn’t his personal number. How weird would it be if some random guy you happened to meet a week ago called for no reason? I don’t have a reason.”

“Oh come on, there is a reason already right in front of you. He gave you the card with the intention that you contact him sooner or later.” The appropriate gap between Akaashi and Kuro naturally festered a silence.

"Well anyhow, we need to go to the store," Kuroo gestured to the refrigerator and a sad sputter from the dark grey machine answered back. "We got nothing in there. And I don't know about you, but I could probably eat an elephant right now."

Akaashi could see the gears turning in Kuroo’s head, his choice to switch the topic so obviously was his way of saying ‘I won’t pry any further, but I’m right.’

"I mean, whatever we can afford with our budget," Akaashi nudged his freezing toes in the folds of the couch, "since our split rent will go up starting next month cause Terushima left."

"That's if we don't find another roommate in that time," Kuroo wiggled his eyebrows as if he had something up his sleeve. 

"Oh? And if we don't?" Kuroo still looked relatively confident.

"Well, in the 0.01% chance that it doesn't go through, we'll survive on cup ramen or something," Akaashi snorted at the mere image of the both of them hunched over their 100th cup ramen in a row, surrounded by a massive litter of Styrofoam. 

"Yeah, and by then we'll die from excess sodium levels."  
  


"Akaashi," Kuroo spoke as he was deciding whether he was going to pick a bag of chips or a can of Redbull, "would it be unwise if I got another can of Redbull? I mean, I know I vomited like crazy the next day last time I had one, but it tastes so good?"

"Yeah, that would be unwise," Akaashi flicked Kuroo's hand away from the handle of the refrigerator. Kuroo puffed his cheeks and pouted. 

Their home refrigerator was completely empty aside from the nasty half-used bottle of mustard Terushima had left behind after moving in with Yamaguchi. All of the snacks had been consumed while figuring out what on earth was going on in their classes that semester. Using food to stimulate their brains probably wasn’t healthy.

The sun had now made a full appearance in the sky, and they were in the nearest convivence store, piling up junk food in the shopping basket. 

"It wouldn't be good for us to be preoccupied with your health issues instead of our business proposal." 

"Oh god," Kuroo groaned with a pinched expression, "please don't mention that, the professor assigned it starting yesterday but I don't want to do anything relating to that. I would rather throw up from Redbull than start on that." 

The other day during lecture, their professor had assigned a huge project where they would create a fake business and organize all the information they would require to start it up. They had a month and a shilling's worth of time, but an impending dread swarmed both of them, so much so that they ended up turning to food instead of facing their problems. 

"Please, if that's all it took to get out of the project, I wouldn't be telling you to not drink it," Akaashi pushed Kuroo towards the cash register, plucking a small package of vinegar and salt chips from the stand along the way. "Let's at least open up a document tonight or something." 

A sound of a fridge peeling open was followed by the hiss of the extra cooling system booting up. Akaashi’s subconscious waited to hear the satisfactory suction of the door, but to his avail, it didn’t come. Rather, a voice called out to him.

"Akaashi?" he spun around and was met with the same golden eyes that burned in his dreams last night.

"Oh, what a surprise," Akaashi said coolly, despite feeling an inferno burn up inside. He heard his voice echo in his ears, bouncing off the growing heat. He took to rapidly prepare his heart.

He handed Kuroo the shopping basket. "Fancy seeing you here."

Akaashi instinctively took a step back and his shoes squelched against the sticky floors.

Bokuto was holding a case of beer. He looked over Akaashi's shoulder at Kuroo, then back at Akaashi. A new expression Akaashi had yet to witness passed on Bokuto’s face. Was it disappointment? Perhaps. But it was mixed with something else that Akaashi couldn’t quite figure out.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Bokuto blurted out without warning, which caused Akaashi to freeze at his sudden question. So much for getting his heart ready. He frantically looked around, scoping out any bystanders that could've possibly heard Bokuto. Thankfully, the only other customer was standing in the magazine section across the store with his earbuds in. 

"No," Akaashi quietly hissed, the answer sounding icier than he thought. Kuroo had a mockingly hurt expression, his hand firmly pressed to his chest and his mouth agape. 

"Hey," Kuroo whined, "am I that unlovable?" 

"Yes," Akaashi answered, a drop of spite seeped its way into his words. God forbid someone to walk by and hear their conversation and interpret it in the way Akaashi feared. "Now can we stop talking about it.” He knew he was too snappy, but he didn’t care.

Kuroo put his hand up as if he were completely innocent, but the cheshire-esque grin ruined his guise. "Got it," Kuroo prodded at Akaashi's heel with his toe. 

The previous expression died on Bokuto’s face, making way for a common smile.

"So, I was wondering why you didn’t call that number on the card… I was kind of waiting for one, I almost talked to a customer over the phone thinking it was you, haha…" Bokuto meandered, retracing his words.

Kuroo raised his eyebrow and cheekily glanced at Akaashi. Kuroo's eyes screamed, _'what did I say?'_

"Would it be better if you got my personal number?”

"Uh, can we talk outside?" Akaashi pointed to the unpaid items in the basket in Kuroo's hand. Bokuto immediately nodded understandingly.

“I’ve got some things to buy as well, I’ll meet you outside then,” Bokuto raised the beer case up. He nodded to Kuroo and moved to an aisle a few rows down from where Akaashi and Kuroo were.

"So," Kuroo plucked a pack of Swedish Fish off the rack, "Is that him?"

"Yeah." They stopped at the cash register.

"Well, have you started to plan out your wedding with him?" Kuroo joked. 

Akaashi tensed up, and the Swedish fish bag gave out a small pop from Akaashi squeezing it too hard. Some poor high school girl who was just trying to do her job had to listen in on their conversation. Akaashi flitted his eyes at the cashier, then back at Kuroo, hoping that the arrows his eyes drew were clear enough for him to stop. 

"I mean, her!" Kuroo laughed nervously, rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, she's wonderful isn't she,"

Akaashi just rolled his eyes. 

The girl offered up a nervous laugh, and Akaashi knew exactly how she felt. Though, he couldn’t say anything more, as that would gesture in more embarrassment into the interaction than there already was.

“Oh shit,” Kuroo pushed around the items sitting on the counter as if looking for something. “I forgot to pick up some alcohol.”

“Oh come on, you can last a week without beer.”

“No, not beer, I wanted some vodka or wine,” Kuroo pouted. “Or both.”

A small standoff, Akaashi and Kuroo locked their eyes. Akaashi huffed in defeat. “Dude, then you’re gonna have to pay for everything.”

Kuroo gave Akaashi a cheeky grin before inching back into the aisles. He came back holding the necks of wine and vodka bottles, each in the tight grasp of a hand.

“Man, you really should drink with me some time,” he set them down with a hollow echo from the glass.

“Nah, I’ll pass.” Kuroo knew the answer before it left Akaashi’s mouth and shrugged with a _‘suit yourself’_.

Akaashi had never really drank anything that had alcohol in it. His mother had always told him that anything that could give you a hangover was something to avoid. Personally, Akaashi didn’t particularly mind agreeing with her; he had witnessed the actions and deeds of those who excessively drank firsthand.

Kuroo took up the expense and received the plastic bags from the girl. They shuffled over to the automatic doors which opened with an ear-piercing squeak, prompting for the duo to cringe. 

"I'll wait over there," Kuroo pointed to an electronics store that neighbored the convenience store they had just left. Akaashi put up a hand to signal an 'ok'.

"Hey, over here," Bokuto flagged him down, sitting on a small bench nestled in the shade of a tree with a trunk the size of a Honda Civic, both tucked away in a more secluded place. How that thing grew so big, Akaashi couldn't dare to imagine. "Sorry for catching you at a bad time."

 _You weren't_ was itching on Akaashi's lips. In fact, he was glad that Bokuto had found him. He was too afraid of calling first.

"Um," Akaashi inched over and ended up running his fingers over the blemished wood of the bench. "Want me to put my number in...?" 

A wordless exchange later, Akaashi found himself tapping the digits into his contact list.

"Thank you," Bokuto offered up a smile, a kind that Akaashi hoped he would be seeing in abundance in the future. 

But just as friends, of course. He had to keep himself in check.

Akaashi clicked the lock button on the side of the phone, but it lit back up as soon as he put it to sleep. A vibrant photo of Bokuto among a patch of dusty yellow flowers filled the screen, his face just as content as the bushels of decorative flowers surrounding him.

A small smile glinted on Akaashi's face. How fitting for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the first 6000 words of this story back in October, but since this was my graduating year, I couldn’t afford to distract myself because I fully know that it’s way too damn easy for me to hyper-fixate on something. 
> 
> But it became apparent that it was too late and ideas for this fic kept haunting me until I picked it back up again. So, if there are any inconsistencies that do not sort themselves by the end of the story, I will politely ask for you to ignore them LMAO

"Harumichi Station," the speaker rang after fifteen minutes on the train. Akaashi had forfeited his seat to an elder grandma who insisted that she needed it more than him, so he had been hanging on a railing for dear life for the last ten minutes. "Harumichi Station."

The doors opened with a clean swoosh and Akaashi stepped out, squeezing through the fluctuation of passengers passing to the next platform. His shoes hit the steps with a sharp squeak, the rubber soles creating friction with the bright yellow gripping of the stairs.

"Four blocks down, a right and a left," Akaashi read off his phone. He had looked up directions to the flower shop ahead of time. Bokuto had asked him if he wanted to come by, and though dangerous to his heart, he accepted the invitation. 

He looked up at the sign hung above the door. It was quite difficult for him to track it down, as it was squashed between larger corporate buildings. It was a particular sight; a cozy flower shop was sandwiched between rectangular white boxes.

The flower shop's main showcase window was packed with greenery, vines laced the edge of the glass like a border while its more colorful family members showed off in the middle.

Akaashi pushed open the door, and a cute bell rang over his head. Once inside, he witnessed something resembling a jungle than a flower shop. More vines were tangled in the light fixtures, and hundreds of potted plants littered the tables and floor. The only place in the leafy biome that wasn't overrun with plants was a cleared path that could only fit one person at a time. The sunlight in the shop was spotty, as there were places whose light exposure was comparable to a Bali beach and others whose residents seemed to have never touched light before. The skylights were responsible for the inconsistent illumination; it seemed like the light fixtures in the store were just for show, as there were no bulbs screwed in.

"Hello?" Akaashi couldn't tell where he was supposed to go. He couldn't see Bokuto nor a cleared countertop.

"Stay along the right side of the wall and walk down," Akaashi did just as he instructed, careful not to step on or knock anything over. He made it all the way down and came to a clearing. Bokuto stood behind a worn in wood minibar-turned-service-counter, his back facing Akaashi. He spun around, a few petals falling from his head. An infectious smile instilled itself on Bokuto's face.

"Hey!" He seemed awfully excited to see him. And it wasn't like he didn't feel the same. Bokuto's existence was like finding a secret spot in the woods, somewhere almost nobody knew about. Something... Refreshing. It had only been a week since they last met in person, but the countless conversations they never let die out till the sun rose made Akaashi feel like they've known each other forever. 

"You still have a petal in your hair," Akaashi leaned over the counter to pluck it from his hair, and Bokuto gladly tilted his head down to let him get it easier. As he took the petal off, the back of his hand brushed Bokuto's cheek. A burning warmth lingered on his hand, though Akaashi was probably just projecting.

"Thank you," A small shuffle to the side, Bokuto’s hands were back to attending the bouquet. Akaashi grunted in response. He made himself comfortable by leaning his elbows on the top of the counter and let his head rest in a cradle he made with his hands.

"I'm glad you came," Bokuto ducked under the counter and came back up with a handful of flowers.

Useless inquiry was Akaashi’s go to whenever he felt conversation dying. "So, is this your store?"

"Yeah, I run it with a friend, his name's Iwaizumi," he examined the unarranged flowers on the counter for a single one that was shaped how he wanted. "He's a fool though. He ran off to spend time with his childhood friend. It's pretty obvious that he has feelings for 'em, but they're taken. Must be tough being in love with someone you can't have." Akaashi's eyebrows furrowed.

"Why would he put himself through that? I mean, couldn't you find another person?" Bokuto stopped mid-snip.

_Shit. Not again._

There went Akaashi’s streak of conversations without troublesome routes.

"Well, I suppose in theory that is the most logical, but the human behavior is more complex and goes beyond logic."

Akaashi entertained Bokuto’s remark with a snort. "Aren't you quite the philosopher."

_Fuck._

"Haha, well, I used to be in college, majored in behavioral science, though I didn’t last even a semester." Akaashi’s eyebrows crinkled, displaying subtle surprise. Akaashi took a flower from the pile that he deemed far too short to be incorporated into the bouquet.

"What happened to that?"

"I dropped out, it just wasn’t for me," Bokuto's laugh didn't seem bitter. Akaashi wondered why. After all, it was common knowledge that you needed to have a college education to survive in the real world.

"Wait, so your parents let you drop out of college? Just like that?" Akaashi spun the stalk of a flower between his thumb and forefinger, quickly dizzying himself with the kaleidoscope of pink as to distract himself from fathoming the mere idea. 

"Well, yeah." _snip_. Bokuto was arranging a bouquet for a customer that came in twenty minutes before Akaashi did. Requested for white and pink carnations apparently.

"I like to think of it as a good thing though," he circled the air with his shears, "I mean, how boring would it be if everyone went to college and got a boring 9-5 job? No offense," he quickly added as if his statement would drive Akaashi away. It would take a little more than just a truthful comment to make him uninterested. He didn't say that though.

"None taken." Akaashi squeezed the stem as hard as he could, and sticky sap started to seep from the flower, "I don't really want it to be honest," he mumbled.

"Well, then leave school." Bokuto peered over his shoulder to look at Akaashi smoothing out a petal callously. Akaashi glanced up.

"It's," he switched to a different petal, "not that easy.” Bokuto had his ways with pulling the most out of Akaashi’s mouth. “Parents." His parents would definitely protest with his decision. A waste of their money and resources, they'd say. Just suck it up, they'd say. It's for your own good and future, they'd say.

"Well, can't you make your own decisions? You're out of their reach here." A choice...? He never really had a say in his own interests. He just learned to go along with what was happening and what his parents told him to do. Eventually, he couldn't tell what he wanted versus what his parents wanted. 

It seemed like Bokuto caught the strain on Akaashi's face; he brought over the glass vase he was using to arrange the flowers and set it right in front of Akaashi.

"The last flower," Bokuto held up two singular flowers, "white or pink?" The bouquet was made up of mostly pinks nestled among some whites and some filler baby breath clusters. White would be nice, but it also would mess up the meticulous arrangement Bokuto did. Pink would have been the one to choose, but it also seemed wrong.

Pink, white, pink, white—

"White or pink?" Bokuto asked again, and Akaashi caught himself staring slightly too hard. "There isn't a right or wrong choice," his laugh tinkled, somehow blending together with the trickling of the watering system for the flowers in the front.

"Akaashi," this was the first time Bokuto spoke his name, just him, and him alone. It rang sweet on his lips, and Akaashi hoped this was just the first of thousands of instances.

"U-um," Akaashi was too tense and he stuttered, cracking the stem of the flower in his hand.

"Ok, well, how about pink. Opinions?" Bokuto picked up the pink carnation at the stem and fashioned it against a cluster of baby-breath. He glanced over to Akaashi and cocked a smile. 

"Pink is good."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, the internal homophobia will become more prominent from here on out

Akaashi swirled his coffee mug, a small vortex opening up in the middle. Half consumed, Akaashi had yet to feel the effects of the caffeine hit. This particular Friday was illusively busy, his schedule was entirely cleared of lectures thanks to his class’ building having electrical issues. As a reward, Akaashi decided to spend an extra hour in bed.

It was quite easy for him to snooze through his alarm, a hopeful thought now materialized, the urgency to speed to class the moment he woke up, save for the time it took for his coffee to filter, was now on hold for the day.

Akaashi was left with only the rising sun to accompany his groggy morning. Shy rays of Apollo’s chariot peeked from the balcony railing. Periodically, a faint buzz came from the stripped electrical extensions to the tv. And in the absences of that buzz came the whirr of the coffee machine reheating the water sitting in the canister. It was little things like these that Akaashi never realized were there.

He was alone in the apartment; any traces of Terushima’s presence now dwindled to the small puncture in the wall when he tried to hang up a frame but ultimately failed. Kuroo had left their apartment at an ungodly hour, with only a hasty explanation of _‘our rent!’_ in the form of a voice-to-text at 6:27am.

Akaashi would have preferred for some food to accompany his coffee, but he was advised, - _no_ \- commanded, not to attempt to make anything in the kitchen. Akaashi was definitely not the person up for the task of cooking, seeing as he accidentally put metal in the microwave and proceed to burn an egg in the same hour just last week. Only a cup of coffee would clear the rule Kuroo had set for Akaashi regarding the kitchen and its appliances. Just a Keurig cup and a button.

He swished around his cup again, as if that would magically change the taste. Akaashi never understood people who drank coffee without any creamer or milk. Just undiluted coffee. At the very least, he would have preferred for his jet fuel to have a less drying and nappy aftertaste in his mouth.

Akaashi watched as the vapors from his mug swirled into the clouds, accompanying the sun’s ascent in the sky beyond his view of the balcony.

A rapid ding of the doorbell prompted for Akaashi to jump, the caffeine now activating as if the sudden sound were a catalyst in the glowstick Akaashi called instant coffee.

“Coming,” Akaashi half grumbled, setting his cup on the small coffee table off to the side of the couch. The faux leather of the furniture clung to his body, reluctantly peeling from his skin it had warmed up to. Once Akaashi had removed himself from the couch, he rubbed the back of his legs in an attempt to reclaim the fleeting heat.

The doorbell rang a few times more, each one interrupting the last chime. Akaashi rolled his eyes. He came to a stop in front of the door and opened it, making direct eye contact with Kuroo. His finger was hovering over the ringer, and a sheepish look fumbled its way onto Kuroo’s face.

“Good morning to you,” Akaashi casually crossed his arms.

“Um, sorry,” Kuroo smiled with half of his mouth. “I just thought you were still sleeping.”

“If you were that sorry, maybe you’ve would’ve checked that you had your key on your person,” Akaashi joked and rotated a small silver key around his fingers. He picked it up off the high counter in the kitchen before answering the door.

“Ahaha,” Kuroo laughed, the sheepish look had unpacked itself on Kuroo’s face.

“I was in a hurry, you know?” Kuroo shifted to the side to reveal an equally tall man. “We don’t have to worry about rent anymore! Well, at least not having to worry about covering the rent as two roommates instead of three.”

Assuming that the man had all his belongings on him, Akaashi thought that he wasn’t a materialistic person. Two stool sized cardboard boxes were stacked to his left and a suitcase that could fit a week and a half at max’s worth of clothes to his right. With this limited number of items to his name, Akaashi wasn’t sure if he could hold up his deal of the rent payment.

But Akaashi wasn’t one to be rude to someone in their face.

“Um, hello,” Akaashi stuck his hand out, “I’m Akaashi Keiji.”

The man just nodded and didn’t receive Akaashi’s handshake. Akaashi awkwardly dropped his arm to his side, his pointer finger now busying itself with the hem of his pants.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he replied.

Akaashi took this time to study Sakusa; a man of a similar height and hair color to Kuroo, the only striking differences being the hair texture and two horizontally parallel set of moles perched above Sakusa’s eyebrow. A demeanor comparable to a cautious feline, Sakusa’s shoulders hunched inward. He didn’t seem like a fellow that would be thought of as a friend of Kuroo.

But then again, neither was Akaashi.

A silence befell them, one that felt like a fresh canker sore in the back of his mouth. 

“Can we get inside please?” Kuroo nudged the doorframe with his foot. Very rarely was Akaashi thankful for Kuroo’s inability to follow the tone of the room, but he was in that moment.

“Yeah, so about those boxes?” Akaashi gestured to the boxes he assumed were bought from the postal service.

“Oh yeah,” Kuroo lifted both of them off the ground with minimal apparent effort. An initial thought would have been that there wasn’t much heft to those boxes, but Akaashi knew that Kuroo packed a lot of muscle on his rather lanky body.

“So where is that bastard again?” Kuroo asked right after the door clicked behind all of them.

“Canada,” Sakusa sighed, “he said he wanted to visit the land of maple syrup and caribou. I texted back that it might not even be the right season for maple harvesting, but he didn’t respond back. Per usual.”

“Who?” Akaashi heard himself vocalize his thoughts.

“Miya Atsumu,” Kuroo heaved out before setting down the boxes in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “He’s a mutual, er, _friend_ , of ours.”

The tone in the word ‘friend’ was a bit suspicious, but it wasn’t Akaashi’s case to pry open. Thankfully, they gave enough base level information on this mystery of a man.

“He’s been travelling around the world for the past who knows how long. Always saying that he’s trying to find a town he can call home. So far that isn’t exactly working out for him.” Sakusa parked the suitcase next to the boxes.

“Somehow, this mutually known idiot answered one of my texts complaining about our roommate issue. He said that he knew someone who needed a new place to live, so I guess everything fell into place conveniently for us,” Kuroo laughed.

“At least I now know he reads my texts I send him,” Sakusa muttered.

“I’m sure that bastard just can’t think of a proper response to your texts, that’s all,” Kuroo lightly offered, but Akaashi could tell that Sakusa wasn’t buying it.

“So where is my room?” Sakusa thankfully flipped the conversation. Akaashi wasn’t sure how long the pointless end of that topic would last.

“So, your room is the one on the right,” Akaashi pointed down the hall, “I’m assuming you want to get your stuff in there and to check out the space.”

“Yeah,” Sakusa stared at the boxes. “Thank you.” Akaashi and Kuroo watched Sakusa’s back as he trailed down to the newly emptied room.

“Alright, enough about Atsumu, why don’t we talk about Bokuto?” Kuroo turned to Akaashi with a thin smile.

“What about him,” Akaashi coolly retorted, settling his body back in the nook of the couch. Kuroo found himself comfy leaning against the bar counter that separated the kitchen with the rest of the common room.

Kuroo took off his windbreaker and set it on the back of a kitchen chair. He and Sakusa had only taken off their shoes at the door—or rather Kuroo had kicked his off, to which Sakusa had put back in its rightful place on the rack.

“Well, I mean that guy seems awfully fond of you, and I’m guessing it isn’t all one sided,” Kuroo prodded his big toe against the leg of the dinner table.

“I don’t know exactly,” Kuroo’s eyes were locked on Akaashi, as if they were trying to wring out the end of Akaashi’s sentence from his mouth, “yet.”

“There you go,” A sugar-coated smile glinted at Akaashi.

Before Akaashi could think of a petty response, a shallow ping rang from his phone. He reached over to grab it, overturning it to show the screen. A text from his mother. Akaashi simply stared at it.

_Your brother and I haven’t seen you in a while, why don’t you come home for the weekend?_

There was no reason why he should say no, but Akaashi didn’t feel like meeting the woman behind the texts.

_Sure._

Akaashi simply sighed and crouched into his knees.

“Is it your mom again?” Kuroo noticed the screen highlighting the shadow lines on Akaashi’s face.

“Yeah,” Akaashi exchanged his phone for his coffee mug. “She wants me to come home for the weekend.”

“Do you have to? I mean you could just say that I’ve been having problems with a girl or something and that I’ve forced you to stay home.” Akaashi raised his eyebrow at Kuroo before finishing up his coffee.

“I already said that I was going,” Akaashi motioned for Kuroo to take his mug. “Besides, you barely have any interest in girls, all you do is schoolwork.”

“And men,” Kuroo added, swinging the arm that held Akaashi’s empty mug. He headed to the sink and Akaashi heard the lazy water pressure hit the porcelain surface.

“Yeah, my mother would flip if she heard that.”

Call her traditional, call her closed minded, but she always told Akaashi that he would inevitably end up with a woman, get married, and work a 9-5 office job until he died. To her, that was the only constant in the complex equation that life was.

Except for the fact that he too was not interested in women, just as Kuroo was. Not that they weren’t attractive, no. Nothing of that sort. It just was a personal preference of his. He knew he was not straight, and society was not ok with that.

And society terrified him.

If he was destined to be with a woman, would that lead to his own unhappiness? He knew the answer was yes.

But what use was happiness if it was accompanied with social castration?

“Good luck I guess,” the tap of the sink squeaked, and the water lightly drummed against the hollows of the dishes below.

“Yeah, I’ll need it.”

“Another shot of espresso?”

Somehow Kuroo knew exactly how to make pre-grounded coffee grounds taste heavenly.

“Yes please.”

Akaashi had returned to the quiet neighborhood he grew up in; he took a taxi from the train station. It was a small way away from the two-story home and in hindsight, he could have requested for his mother to come and pick him up, but he chose not to.

It wasn’t gloomy, rather, it was a quaint neighborhood, one clustered among many others in the outskirts, one with a normal color variance of beiges, maroons, and greys as opposed to the colorful skyline Akaashi had become accustomed to back in the heart of the city.

He kept his vision fixed on the scenery outside the window for the entirety of his taxi ride. Houses rolled by and the sheen in the windows followed him as he went past.

Akaashi had never realized how his conception of distance changed over time. In his youth, he had the naïve thought of his neighborhood street as an infinite stretch. How wide was that world from beyond his asphalt driveway, his home as his kingdom.

Akaashi stood in the middle of the driveway as the taxi departed. Puttering away, Akaashi watched as it rounded the corner. A small distance for a small world. Rather than having miles of grassy land, the houses were closed in, separated by only five meters. 

Fire meters apart, the shadow of a chilling veil seeped between the passive wall of planks.

Five meters apart, a new pair of eyes were watching, observing.

Five meters apart, perfectly painted exterior walls running adjacent to the street, watching, observing.

Homes with levelly trimmed lawns sat five meters apart.

But the gateway that adjourned the council of eyes only served to welcome Akaashi to the internal gaze he knew all too well. Studied them in fact. Memorized the jagged patterns that differs from each other by a single sequence, but message-wise were the meanings so drastically contrastable.

“Oh Akaashi, you’re here,” his mother called from the kitchen.

The train ride to the outskirts of the city was more than uncomfortable. He forgot how hard the seating was on his back. Passengers hopped between stations, leaving Akaashi’s shins scraped from the traffic of the cabin. The sun baked the back side of his neck, but it was better than holding on to a pole, wrestling with his sense of balance, wobbling without pause on the balls of his feet.

“Hello mother,” Akaashi slung a strap of his backpack on a dinner table chair and slumped into the chair out of exhaustion. Inside was a hastily packed set of clothes for tomorrow, as he knew that his mother would insist on him staying a night.

“How’s the schoolwork?” Pots and ladles beat accordingly, a faint replication of what thundered in his chest. He shouldn’t be so nervous, talking to his own mother. But who knew what turn her mood would swing towards.

“Doing well, as usual.” From the missing pause in her actions, she seemed to have expected that response. Just like their texts, automated. Repetitive, calculated.

“Hm, what about your romance life? Have you found a girl that you’ve been thinking is the one?” Akaashi set his weary limbs down in the chair next to the one occupied by his backpack.

“No, I’ve been happy with just the company of my friends.”

“Oh Akaashi, college is when you find the one!” Akaashi heard the rapid clicks of the gas being turned on. “You’re graduating this year, for god’s sake.” She became awfully chattery when it came to topics like this.

“How time flies by,” Akaashi mumbled.

“I’m serious! How on earth will you be able to settle down with a comfortable lifestyle if you don’t start on this road at your current age?”

Akaashi couldn’t answer, despite knowing exactly how he would respond if it weren’t for her being the one asking the question. Instead, he let himself fade out, his eyes wandered around the room.

It was quite some time since he last was in this place, perhaps last year? As if preserved in time, barely anything had changed about the comfortable abode. The collection of photos methodically littering the top of any furniture that could balance a snapshot of candid scenes that Akaashi could only vaguely remember. A strange contrasting feeling bubbled within Akaashi, melancholic yet indifferent. Something yet to be let go of.

Without ceremony, Akaashi’s mother set a plate down in front of Akaashi.

“Maybe you should stay here longer or something, I want to introduce you to some girls. What would you do without me, I swear,” his mother huffed, pushing the plate closer to Akaashi. On it was a simple omelet, void of any heat blemishes, perfectly smooth. Perhaps it was the only thing he missed while being away at college.

“I’m sorry for not doing better than this even though I’m your mother, but it’s whatever we had left over from lunch,” she looped back towards the kitchen to wipe down her hands. “I fixed that up just for you.” A swift second later, his mother came back with a silver spoon in hand. She placed it with a short clack next to his plate.

Akaashi carved a corner off of the omelet and savored it. It was creamy, it was just the right temperature, it was up to his mother’s standards. He let the spoon sit in his mouth.

Words hopped around the surface of his tongue. Akaashi almost defaulted into asking how his father was to his mother, but he knew the answer he’d receive was that he was that he was in the office working. He was a very dedicated man, that he was. Akaashi supposed that was the nail in the coffin that convinced his mother to marry him.

“By the way, one of your old friends sent you something in the mail. I didn’t think you would mind me opening it and reading it since I didn’t know when you would come back, so if there was anything important in it like a wedding invitation to tell you right away.” She pointed to an opened crème letter that laid tenderly on top of a stack of white envelopes Akaashi assumed were all credit card and utility bills.

He was in no rush to read it, so while Akaashi dug into his food, his mother brought over the letter that was theoretically addressed to him, and him only.

The letter’s lip was harshly torn at, the length being snagged into five separate parts. Upon further inspection, the glue that held the envelope closed was too light for the need for excess strength.

“It’s from Oikawa, your classmate from year 3 I believe.” Akaashi’s hand halted from pulling the card out. There was a small drop in his stomach after hearing his name. Akaashi glanced out of the corner of his eye to see his mother’s reaction. No emotions particularly bled through her resting face. He was safe.

Oikawa Tooru. Akaashi did in fact remember him. Were they friends? Not in the typical sort. Something resembling a mutual understanding of the others’ internal struggles at the time, rather than the typical lunch table buddies. It was a while since they last talked. Perhaps a year or two? College was a boggled mass of time, so identifying when each semester started and ended was a bit tough for him. But why now?

Akaashi shoved one more bite of cooked egg into his mouth before hastily wiping his dominant hand on his shirt. The envelope was too pristine for his greasy hands to grubbily mark itself across its surface. Oikawa was one for the dramatics, and the efforts to send Akaashi this card proved just that.

He pulled out a stiff card the color of an auburn tree. Etched on it was a small message. His eyes followed the line of words over and over again.

“If I recall correctly, isn’t that’s the gay kid who you hung out with for like a while? God, you should be thankful that I made you stop being friends with him in high school. I wonder why he decided to write to you.”

He called his safety too soon.

Akaashi sucked in his thoughts and hardened his mouth. “Yeah, that’s Oikawa.”

“God, how unlucky is he for choosing to be gay.” The terrifying pep in her voice almost lost Akaashi in translation.

Akaashi bit back every thought that might sound remotely offensive to her. A shadow of an insult seeped through, infecting his eyes with such a gaze that could crystalize if it tried. Luckily, Akaashi’s mother wasn’t one for picking up on complex emotions.

“I mean, he’d have such an easier time in life if he was straight like us, right?”

“Like us,” Akaashi echoed without the push to his words that his mother’s originally had.

Perhaps letting his eyes roll across the vague message over and over again wasn’t the best decision.

“Well? Are you planning on responding? It would be quite rude if you didn’t,” Akaashi sat motionless, still stifled by the card and what it carried with it. He rubbed the blank space underneath the words, clearly left there on purpose, as if Oikawa planned on writing more but held off.

“Maybe,” Akaashi drummed his pointer finger on the neatly printed words. “I think I should take it back to my apartment. After all, you did say that all responses should be properly thought out, right?” A smile softened his mother’s features.

That caught Akaashi off guard. He was away at college for so long that he forgot what certain mannerisms meant from his mother, and what was natural. That smile didn’t belong there. Something must have happened before he arrived for her to act this way.

“Akaashi!” Akaashi stopped rapping his fingers and leaned over in his seat to peer down a narrow hallway. Small thumpings of feet accompanied by a bright smile grew bigger as he came closer to Akaashi.

A kid that bordered the line between child and teenager stopped in front of Akaashi. The same dusty hair, the same build, he was almost a carbon copy of Akaashi. The only difference were his eyes. Where Akaashi had their mother’s, Yuzu had their father’s eyes.

“Hey, how’re you doing, Yuzu? It’s been a while, huh?” Not a vocal response, but his arms wrapped tightly around Akaashi’s neck to a point where he had to tap his shoulder for him to loosen his hold.

“I didn’t think that momma was serious when you said that you were going to come over!” A bouncing ecstasy, his fidgeting was basically fueled by photosynthesis.

The clinking of a doorknob caught his attention. Akaashi knew it wasn’t his father, but something in his heart tugged at the mere idea. And he was right. A woman peeked in, a set of keys jangling continuously as if the metallic noise followed her everywhere as her theme song.

Guests would usually walk with a cautious air about them, but she entered as if the home was accustomed to her. She beelined to the dinner table where Akaashi sat.

As she came closer, a curtain rose and Akaashi realized who she was.

Aunt Hazel was a childhood best friend of his mother, someone who stuck with her from high school and beyond, both vowing to never leave their small neighborhood.

Although he had no interest in Aunt Hazel for quite obvious reasons, that didn’t mean Akaashi didn’t think she was timelessly beautiful. Her skin was a generously warm tone, her dark curls aligned perfectly, working with her facial features to bring out only the very best.

She was a woman of beauty that flowed at its own pace, one that transcended the fast trends of the eras.

Akaashi then labored a realization. This woman’s presence most definitely was the reason why his mother was in such a forgiving mood.

“Akaashi! I haven’t seen you in a while, how have you been?” Everyone in the home had now surrounded Akaashi, who was still sat at the dinner table, yet to have finished his omelet.

“Doing well, Aunt Hazel.”

“Well if you’re up for it, why don’t you come with me and Yuzu to the store?” Aunt Hazel rounded the table to swipe her purse from the couch. “I wanna catch up with you, it’s been so long since you’ve first left for college,” the end of her sentence took her a smidge more effort as she rose to her full height.

“I can finish this up in the next ten minutes, so I can come with.” A twinkle passed Aunt Hazel’s eyes.

“Perfect.”

“So Akaashi, how are you doing? Is the city treating you just fine?” the three of them were crammed into the Aunt Hazel’s 2006 Honda Civic, Akaashi and Yuzu were forced to sit in the back since the front passenger seat was already occupied with a variance of Aunt Hazel’s belongings.

The car’s air circulation system jetted out musty and lukewarm puffs of air in accordance with the jerky nature of the car’s mechanisms; but that baby ran just fine, though it huffed as if coming down with an asthma attack. Certainly a questionably safe car, but there definitely was a charm to it.

“Yeah, there’s a lot more people in comparison to here, but I think I adjusted pretty quickly.”

“Mmm,” Akaashi took a glimpse of Aunt Hazel’s face as she changed the alignment of the rear mirror. “That is wonderful. I was worried about that, I talked to your mother about it during your first month away from your mother. I thought, surely you, an extreme Mama’s Boy, would have a hard time without your mother’s hand.” She giggled, paying no heed to the fact that no one joined in on her ride of amusement.

“Sorry sorry, I’ll stop with that. Anyways, has anything interesting happened lately? Surely as a college student with so many freedoms opening up, you’re bound to have some sort of weird encounter.”

Their bodies lurched forward as Aunt Hazel switched her foot off of the gas pedal to the brake. A snort loosened from her mouth, one that was so obvious despite her finger dusting the base of her nose to try and hide it.

“Nothing really, I suppose.” Akaashi never found a way, a method on how to create a perfect response to Aunt Hazel. Unlike his mother, her questions were far more personal, ones _directed_ at him. With Akaashi’s mother, it was easy to give her a cookie-cutter answer. She accepted those. Aunt Hazel on the other hand could see right through his bullshit.

“Oh come on, surely there had to been at least one interesting personality you came across. I’ll buy you some desserts when we get to the store. Please?” Only her eyebrows were in the frame of the rear-view mirror, and Akaashi could see them playfully wiggling.

“Well, until recently I had this roommate, god he was a pain in the ass,” Akaashi couldn’t grab back that last thought before it escaped his lips. Another laugh from her. Akaashi continued. “He was constantly making trouble for both Kuroo and I.”

“And that’s a lot coming from a kid who can’t cook for the life of him.”

Akaashi crossed his arms. He knew it was true, he could accept that self-critique, but it still humiliated him when someone else pointed out a skill he wasn’t able to grasp.

“Oh god, the parking lot is packed! I think the store is going to be a big bitch to navigate through,” Aunt Hazel took a sharp left into the coral of cars in neat rows. “Do you two want to stay in the car? That is, if you two will put all of the groceries in the trunk for me,” she took the key out of the ignition and slipped the dull metal into her pocket.

She reached her hand over to the headrest of the front passenger seat and used it as leverage to turn her body to face her hitchhikers. “Deal?”

She seemed satisfied with a simple nod from both and clicked open her door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Akaashi’s eyes flickered with the sunlight. A gaudy tempo rumbled in his chest as he tried to find a way to fill the silence. Akaashi was too absorbed with trying to find the right words to answer Aunt Hazel to realize that his younger brother was itching to talk to him during the entire ride to the store.

“Sorry I was ignoring you,” Akaashi clicked his seat belt off, a ghost of the belt’s pressure lingering on the surface of his skin. He brought one of his legs up onto the seat and positioned his body to look directly at Yuzu.

“You weren’t, it’s ok. Momma said it’s impolite to interrupt other peoples’ conversations.”

Yeah, that sounded like something she would say.

Before his younger sibling let the small talk die out, Akaashi could tell that he was loaded with many thoughts, thoughts that perhaps accumulated throughout the years they spent apart. He felt bad, truly. Akaashi didn’t attempt to keep contact with him, even though Akaashi had his phone number. It was too late for that now, he supposed.

Akaashi leaned in, an attempt to get closer to them. As he was scooting, a small cylinder container bumped his knee. He looked down, a hand sized bottle of a creamy liquid. It was a mauve-ish color, and half used to the boot. Akaashi picked it up and examined it between lax fingers.

“I’m gonna be honest, this color doesn’t look like a color Aunt Hazel would wear. It’s, too muted,” Akaashi noted.

The bottle also garnered Yuzu’s attention, and he pursed his lips. “Yeah, she goes for colors out of the red range. Oh! You haven’t seen her lately, but she’s been rocking this light forest green,” he looked out the window as to find something of similar color beyond their small car.

Instead of silently offering up his own attention to help look, Akaashi simply took his time to look at what was in his hands.

He was half joking when he implied that this didn’t belong to Aunt Hazel, but the more he stared at the labelling and the bottle, the more details highlighted themselves. Sure, he hadn’t seen Aunt Hazel, but this brand was one he knew she didn’t like. She had explicitly expressed her dissatisfactions with the company years ago. The dots weren’t connecting, but Akaashi wasn’t up for the task of overanalyzing every detail that led up to that moment.

“Hey Akaashi,”

“Hm?” He lifted his head to look where he was pointing at. Where their fingernail stopped was a rectangular rainbow sticker the size of a phone.

His blood cold, its flow and pressure glued in place. His heart gasping for rhythm, Akaashi’s pulse stuttered out of time. For something so colorful, it sure caused his heart to become bleak upon the mere sight.

“It’s me! Well, not really, not the right flag, but,” he garbled on, a concatenation of words that couldn’t possibly have any correlation followed shortly after.

“Sorry,” he said after calming down, “I’m just excited because I haven’t seen many of those outside.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean pride flags. Gay flags.”

That word. Gay.

That word. He hated that word. The simple utterance of that word.

It was something disgusting. Something thin and filmy and greasy coated him whole when that word was ever spoken out loud. Something twisted and squirmed under his fingernails. Something strung out every one of his muscles and tendons to their limits. Something that stuck in the way backs of his throat, just far enough where he couldn’t reach to relieve the discomfort.

Akaashi liked guys, but as long as he stood under the blinding sun, he would never let these words escape:

_‘I am gay’_

Disgusting.

He clicked their nails against the glass, a grin sheening on their lips. “I’m pan? I think? I’m not sure, I haven’t really talked to anybody about it. Especially momma. Oh god.”

The view through Akaashi’s eyes shifted. Not like the world tilting on its axis, no. It was more like when a camera switched filters, forcing the lens to defocus, then focus again, the colors different just enough to be noticeable. Yuzu’s hair darkened to a sheen of a viscous tar.

"You aren't pan, you're too young to know." That wasn’t supposed to come out. 

"How would you know that?"

"Because," Akaashi spat, "just because."

"Then you're no better than momma!" Akaashi’s gaze hardened.

"Do not compare me with her. I am not that woman. I will never be that woman." Akaashi bit the inside of his cheek, a familiar metallic taste trickles across his tongue.

“And how would you know?”

Akaashi kept his mouth clamped shut and let the silence speak for him. What seemed like an eternity, seated between their bodies was the slow descent of sand in an invisible hourglass.

A rapid tap on the glass jolted them out of the slumberous tension.

Aunt Hazel was pointing to a shopping cart loaded with plastic bags, the fronts each slapped with a large logo of the store. The smile perched in its rightful place on Aunt Hazel’s face told Akaashi just enough to know that she hadn’t heard any of their conversation.

 _Thank god for Aunt Hazel’s impeccable timing,_ Akaashi thought. He slid a parse glance at Yuzu before sliding out of the car.

He didn’t mean for them to argue, for him to ruin his day. Akaashi shuddered at the tone he took with his brother.

A guilt corroded over his chest.


End file.
